This is not an article, and it has not been researched. Unless indulgent introspection were a research tool. This, however, is a realisation that will resonate with all of you. A realisation of what exactly we have missed over the last few years.
Like most of you, I thought I had been fine during lockdown. Complacent for the most part in not needing much, and happy in my beautiful home, meeting friends on zoom and other social media outlets. Watching TV, eating well, healing from personal bereavements, reaffirming family values…. the list is endless. The list of what I thought had been the benefits of lockdown.
That changed this weekend when I was struck with what we already know. The reason why we have unanimously opted for physical meetings, facing and working with each other, rather than in tiny windows on pixelized screens.
It is our joy in human interaction. I know it sounds simple and rather obvious. The simplicity of this realisation hit me with a sharp blow last night, changing my very perception, altering my complacency in inner peace. I thought I was a self-sufficient island; I so obviously am not.
My husband and I had decided to enjoy a city break weekend to Edinburgh. We left on Friday, returning yesterday, despite dire threats by weathermen about storm Mallik and Corrie and the rest. No storms approached us, I think the Gods decided to give us a break, so the city break itself was dry, albeit a tad windy for my long hair. But I stray.
From the moment we checked in to the hotel, a modest last-minute reservation at the Ibis in the heart of the Royal Mile, I KNEW what I had missed.
People.
Nameless friendly strangers.
Oh, the joy of inane chatter, complimenting young girls at the reception on their piercings and tattoos, watching them perk up instantly to a better degree of attentive service. Muffled conversations with masked taxi drivers through glass partitions, neither party heard nor cared for what was being said. But words were being exchanged and conversation was being made. And this is what we, as human beings thrive on.
I must be more human than most, I thought, for this was my battery juice. This patter. Like Kryptonite or whatever it was that Superman needed, I needed conversation.
Discussing the weather with a redheaded Chinese back-packer in the lobby, proceeding to get directions from an elderly lady clutching a very expensive handbag in the lift. My husband whispered irately to me that he could google directions to the restaurant. I tell you! Google? Why? When I can spend five minutes with this elegant lady who proceeded to tell me what she had enjoyed at the very restaurant her family had taken her three years ago for the seventieth, after her husband had passed and her grandson had graduated. Precious information I will forget in two days, but the human interaction gave me the bounce I needed for my joy to multiply.
At the said restaurant, where we arrived very early because the errant wind really was playing havoc with my hair, a very simple smile, and a long story of how we were from Glasgow etc etc, originally from India etc etc, all helped the young man (from Malawi, I add just for your information) in ensuring we got a table asap. Accompanying the girl to our table, she turned out to be a student around the same age as our daughter, the exchange of which fact resulted in us getting an even nicer table than the one reserved for us.
And this is how the next delightful few hours flew by. It was a very fashionable dining place in the heart of Edinburgh’s St Andrews Square, modelled on Bombay’s Irani Cafes. When our waiter, a young man from Poland who charmed even my not-so-gregarious husband, learnt that we had not only been to Bombay a few times but also had a good friend from there, he brought over other waiters and we had lengthy discussions on what to order, with adjoining diners joining in, and an impromptu party began. As I said before, I will forget all the names and faces, but then, in that moment, there was pure exhilaration and joy. We had desserts on the house.
On Saturday we went to the Playhouse for our first show in many years. It was a Musical called the School of Rock, not particularly something we thought we’d enjoy, but it was what was on, and hey, we both love Queen, it couldn’t be bad.
It wasn’t bad. Crushed between people, lots of people for it was a full house, we had so many interesting conversations with so many interesting people. I heard Himself recommending yesterday’s restaurant to people, I discussed shocking petrol prices with the family from Falkirk on my left, and the children behind me sang along to all the songs till I felt I should too.
We had about an hour to kill between the show and our dinner reservation, so we walked along the street looking for an empty-ish place to have a drink. Lo behold, we found a bar, where we walked in like pre-covid days and ordered large red wines at the bar where no one asked to see our covid passports and everyone smiled a lot, drunkenly I must add. It was later, when I walked past the dancefloor on my way to the ladies that I realised that all was not what it seemed. We had unwittingly walked into a rather notorious gay bar. But back at our table, nobody judged us for not being gay, indeed a young man came and sat at our table and proceeded to confide in us about his exboyfriend, extracting promises from us not to tell his current boyfriend. We were charmed, and agreed. Current boyfriend soon joined us, and they were beginning to embrace us affectionately when we remembered the Virus was still around, as was our table at Giuliano’s and beat a hasty retreat. When we told our daughter, she thought we were akin to aliens, but this is one memory we will retain!
We had about an hour to kill between the show and our dinner reservation, so we walked along the street looking for an empty-ish place to have a drink. Lo behold, we found a bar, where we walked in like pre-covid days and ordered large red wines at the bar where no one asked to see our covid passports and everyone smiled a lot, drunkenly I must add. It was later, when I walked past the dancefloor on my way to the ladies that I realised that all was not what it seemed. We had unwittingly walked into a rather notorious gay bar. But back at our table, nobody judged us for not being gay, indeed a young man came and sat at our table and proceeded to confide in us about his exboyfriend, extracting promises from us not to tell his current boyfriend. We were charmed, and agreed. Current boyfriend soon joined us, and they were beginning to embrace us affectionately when we remembered the Virus was still around, as was our table at Giuliano’s and beat a hasty retreat. When we told our daughter, she thought we were akin to aliens, but this is one memory we will retain!
I tell my husband that all of this is brainstorming and research for my ‘work’, he remains indulgent if a tad smirky. But oh, the joy of human interaction.
As a PS, I have just had a man through the door at noon today, to see about a rising damp problem we have. A little bit of chat, and we realise we have multiple mutual friends and lived in Erskine at the same time. What are the odds?